Sensing Nothing
by DarthRuinous
Summary: A slave who sees power in all but himself meets a Sith who sees power only for himself. One of them thinks this meeting is important. Darth Plagueis/Phantom Menace missing scene. Complete.
1. A Random Act of Kindness Goes a Long Way

Excerpt from _Darth Plagueis_:

His thoughts rewound at frantic speed: to the landing platform on which he and Valorum had welcomed Amidala and her group. Actually not Amidala but one of her look-alikes. But the sandy-haired boy, this Anakin, swathed in filthy clothing, had been there, along with a Gungan and the two Jedi. Anakin had spent the night in a tiny room in his apartment suite.  
_And I sensed nothing about him._

Part One

The room is scary. It's too cold, too tall, too long, too open: nothing like the low and dusty habitats of your home planet. It's also covered in red, a color that stirs uncomfortable emotions deep inside you, though you don't know why. In fact, you're not certain why you're here anyway. By all rights, you should be at the Temple getting tested and fitted for a Jedi's robe, or even pattering around your cluttered room back on Tatooine putting parts on the protocol droid. But that's gone now, wiped out in a single night's test. Now you're without your family _and _homeless. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan whispered quietly together tonight before staring at you and leaving for the Temple. Leaving you behind. Some excuse about preparing for going back to Naboo with the Queen… but you've been a slave long enough to know when Authority is lying.

The topic stayed unmentioned in the room all evening, like an invisible krayt dragon. _The boy will not be trained. _Those words floored you in the Temple, and ever since you've been fighting down a gnawing sensation deep in your gut. You've wanted this more than anything in your life, and now all you want is a warm bed and a caring mother. Wait…you can't look back now. You're stuck in this overwhelming, busy city, and you couldn't walk to the nearest intersection without losing yourself or getting run over by a Bothan taxi driver. _You're in over your head, _you think and rub your arms in a vain attempt to warm up. You never guessed it could get so cold, and you certainly never thought cold would be so miserable.

It feels like it's settling into your bones. A dull ache that seeps in without notice until it's too late. And suddenly you startle, just like the man that has abruptly entered the blazing red and frozen room. For an endless moment, you stare at each other. He is not tall like Qui-Gon, or young like Obi-Wan. Strangely, the first thing you notice is his nose, long and hawk-like. He stands straight-backed and rigid, hands held by his sides in a controlled fashion. You find yourself stiffening as the pale, ice-blue eyes travel over you. Did he actually see you? It's hard to tell at first, because he looks like he's waking up from a deep dream.

And then he's in motion, moving across the room in long determined strides. Here is Authority, and you shrink back in an automatic response, hunching your shoulders and lowering yourself in deference. This man could make trouble.

He smiles broadly as he comes to a stop in front of you and bends down slightly. "Hello there, young sir," he offers, and you blink. Sir? Who is he talking to? You know it's stupid, but you turn to look for this third person. He laughs, and the sound is so…warm. Your mouth moves as you try to think of an intelligent answer.

"Me?" you squeak. Maybe you just thought it, because he keeps waiting for something, the smile only growing wider. "I…uh…hello, sir." You're doing good just getting something out of your mouth. This man oozes power, not like Jabba or the Dug crime lords. This power is self-confident, assured, warm, irresistible. Maybe like the Jedi, but different somehow. More personal.

"You _can_ talk," he almost grins, not quite, but close. Instead, the expression is a little more dignified. His eyes are shining though. And they are shining on you. You are captivated by this face that is so open and so considerate, and you feel drawn like piece of scrap metal to a junk yard magnet. You look at him and think: that's a terrible comparison. He's nothing like a junk yard. You know this instinctively. Whoops! He's talking again. "…doing in my apartments?"

Oh no! Are you only an intruder to him? "I'm not here to steal anything!" You manage to stammer out. "Cross my heart and call me a Rancor!"

The smile turns baffled. He is confused by your reply, unused to being around rough slaves. You never thought to experience such a…naïve…thing. "I'm not accusing you, son. I'm only curious why Queen Amidala left you out here in my lounge. I saw you with her earlier today, on the landing platform."

"I'm…" Your heart sinks as you think of the two Jedi, hurrying away like they don't want you, as you recall the moment the Jedi Tempe turned you away, and something inexplicable spurns you to finish. "I'm…with her. Well, her handmaiden Padme. I guess she might have forgotten about me." The thought, even though you have only known each other for days, is nearly unbearable, and you shudder.

"Hm…yes, well," the eyes suddenly lose some of that desirable warmth, and the man straightens back up. "They've had a lot on their minds of late, I suppose. We all do…" He looks at you, but he's looking past you – through you – and now you're openly shivering again. The dull cold ache has crept in again.

He still hesitates, as if trying to remember something, but finally he notices you, a shaking mess in the middle of his home. "Ah, you look cold and tired." His large nose wrinkles slightly as you shift on your feet. "And filthy. I dare say Queen Amidala has made herself scarce by now. Come along, I should have a place for you to tidy up and rest before you leave. The queen will doubtless require some time to conclude her business." He turns and begins to stride away with a contagious energy, reaching out to dim the overhead lighting as he goes.

You don't dare disobey him, and besides, you don't want to be left alone again, so you traipse after him. "Sir, could one of your servants maybe take me? I don't want to be a bother…"

He barely turns to look at you, distracted ever since you mentioned Queen Amidala. His feet trace down the hall in a memorized pattern. "No bother, child. I don't keep servants in my apartment. I value my…privacy…a great deal."

You understand. You wouldn't keep servants either, but not for privacy. Because servants are a half-step away from slaves. This is another point in the man's favor, that he does not keep servants. You like him more and more, Authority aside. He doesn't flaunt his power; he wears it like a warm robe. Maybe someday you'll have a robe like that. This man is proof positive you don't have to be a Jedi to get it.

The two of you travel the entire length of the hall until you arrive at a thin automatic door on the left end. The red-haired man passes his hand over a small inset datapad, and the door swishes open. He goes inside immediately, disappearing into the inky blackness of the unlit room, as though he is one with the shadows. You rub your eyes at the optical illusion until a light comes on inside.

"Well?" he calls to you, a hint of impatience in his deep voice.

"Sorry, sir!" You call back, plucking up your courage and sliding in behind him. The room is small, and the low ceiling brings you some comfort at last. It is warmer here too, and you spy a small bed piled with thick blankets. The two of you almost don't fit, but he doesn't seem to mind standing next to you.

Until you find a bar of soap being pressed into your hands, along with a towel and too-large fluffy pajamas. You turn red as you realize how bad you must look and smell. An ugly little slave from some backwater planet. His face gives nothing away except detached amusement. "The refresher is through that door," he points.

"Uh…thanks…" You're still trying to understand his kindness to you, a lowly former slave. You know he's important, because you saw him talking with the Queen and the Chancellor earlier today. He is nodding and starting to move out of the small room, when you reach out and touch him cautiously on the arm. You don't know what made you do such a bold thing, but it's too late and he's waiting for you to speak. "I…uh, don't remember your name, sir."

He smiles faintly. "Senator Palpatine, child. You're in the Senate apartments. You can stay here for now, and I will make certain the Queen sends one of her handmaidens to fetch you when they are ready to leave." He steps out into the hallway. Something again compels you to lean out after him, to create a lasting memory.

"I won't forget you again, sir."

He pauses in the hall, his blue veda cloth-covered back silhouetted in the dim light. A deep breath, and he swivels to gaze at you. The light must be reflecting from his eyes, because you can see a small flash of yellow. "Few will, my boy." Then he is gone, melding into the shadows once again.

You hurriedly shut the door against the now empty, cold hall and focus on finding the thermostat. At least you have a warm bed now, thanks to Senator Palpatine.

**Well, this is a one-shot of Anakin's first interaction with Palpatine, based on a few lines from **_**Darth Plagueis**_**, which is so inspiring of late. I think I may try to do Palpatine's POV of the same moment in a second part. What do you think? **


	2. Insignificant Surprises

o

Excerpt from _Darth Plagueis_:

His thoughts rewound at frantic speed: to the landing platform on which he and Valorum had welcomed Amidala and her group. Actually not Amidala but one of her look-alikes. But the sandy-haired boy, this Anakin, swathed in filthy clothing, had been there, along with a Gungan and the two Jedi. Anakin had spent the night in a tiny room in his apartment suite.  
_And I sensed nothing about him._

Part Two

Insignificant Surprises

Another pile of paperwork shifts across your desk, from one endless pile to the next. All require signatures, all request the influential guidance of guileless and hardworking Senator Palapatine of Naboo. The thought brings the taste of bile to your mouth. Sometimes the pure innocence of your guise is sickening. Sometimes you wish the worlds could know your true nature. Sometimes you grow tired of slithering from one shadow to the next, known only to a disgruntled nest of Neimoidians. Sacrifices must be made, but tonight you will secure a victory that will bring you closer to rightful recognition.

The air is uncommonly chilly on Coruscant this evening, and you step from your small office side room with the intent to warm up the apartment. At least, that would be the likely thing to do. Your real reason is drastically more important. You have Senators to meet, potential allies to turn, potential enemies to size up and destroy, an important partner to congratulate – all in a night's work. However, to leave an apartment bustling with Nubian handmaidens and the Queen's look-alikes would be a celebrated event. So you have waited until the evening's traffic begins to slow. The Queen is in her borrowed suite, packing her royal bags for the return trip to Naboo.

The Vote of No-Confidence. You feel a spring in your step at the thought. You are almost cheerful as you consider the path made clear for your own nomination, no longer noticing your actual physical path through the apartment. Amidala's arrival could not have been better timed. Her arrogant entry into the Senate and her bold motion (orchestrated by your own desire to move the election forward) have thrown Coruscant into chaos. Every Holonet article tonight is focused on the question of leadership. Who could possibly take the reins of the Republic in such a volatile situation? We need a man of sterling character, of great personal dedication, with an undying love for democracy…In the absence of all that, you will do perfectly.

As you walk into the lounge, the final room separating you from your night's work, you are taken aback to see a small boy still skulking in one corner. For a moment, your frustration at being unable to leave your own apartments unseen takes over, and you feel yourself going rigid with controlled and entirely hidden anger. The boy is small, sandy-haired, and filthy, dressed in the rags of an outer rim slave. Why then, is he traveling in the entourage of the dignified Queen of Naboo? You have not managed to pry the entire story from Amidala yet, but now you think you should. Surprises are for the Jedi, not you, no matter the size or apparent insignificance. This shivering surprise with radiant blue eyes needs placed in a more convenient spot.

You shake yourself mentally and stride forward to meet the child head on. Experience has taught you that children respond best to a friendly gesture and a kindly word. The poor wretch appears to have experienced little of either, shrinking back against the nearest wall, huddling lower to the ground. Perhaps he expects you to hit him. And perhaps you would, if you weren't benevolent Senator Palpatine. You are not here to make trouble for the child, only to make sure he makes no trouble for you.

A broad and friendly smile plasters itself across your face. "Hello there, young sir," you say, and watch him blink several times in confusion. He actually casts his eyes around, as though searching for another individual that you must be addressing. Not him. You laugh, making it a warm and inviting rumble, but in truth you are only pleased with the trepidation rolling off him. Soon the entire galaxy will regard you in much the same way, acknowledging your superior power and will. Tonight you begin to make the rounds that will guarantee your place in the history books. Books that you intend to write. You watch his mouth open and close, and he reminds you of a stunned Gungan.

"Me?" The child's voice is painfully high, but you smile wider instead of wincing, patiently waiting. Let it never be said that Darth Sidious was an impatient man. If you can sit in the Senate, you can wait out a frightened waif. Finally, the boy manages, "I…uh…hello, sir."

"You _can _talk." You allow a genial, informal smile to flit across your features, a hint of good-natured prodding. You can't help it. The Game of Being Nice is sometimes too entertaining, to irresistible not to play in front of others while at the same time contemplating their gruesome ends. For now though, this boy does not require a gruesome end, only a warm bed and a hot shower. On occasion, kindness is useful, or as the saying goes, one can catch more Nubian swamp flies with honey than with vinegar. The boy is apparently soaking it in, staring up at you in fascination, nearly missing your next question. "What might you be doing in my apartments?"

He catches the last of it and turns nearly as pale as his dirty white clothes. "I'm not here to steal anything!" he gasps. "Cross my heart and call me a Rancor!"

Your smile thins slightly. Such uncouth expressions only come from a few of the backwater planets on the outer rim. Maybe he is from Tatooine in the Arkanis Sector. The accent seems to indicate just such an inauspicious beginning. You do not remember Lord Maul mentioning anything about a boy traveling with the Queen on Tatooine, and now your apprentice is back on Naboo, overseeing the occupation by the Trade Federation. And likely terrifying Nute Gunray spitless with his mere presence, no small feat for one so slimy. Ah well, you will have the story eventually, and Maul will be punished for his lack of observation. "I'm not accusing you, son. I'm only curious why Queen Amidala left you out here in my lounge. I saw you with her earlier today, on the landing platform."

"I'm…" He turns his head down suddenly at your words, as though you have wounded him deeply. "I'm…with her. Well, her handmaiden Padme. I guess she might have forgotten about me." He shudders again, and you assume he is still cold, another likely sign of hot-planet origin.

"Hm…yes, well," you are not certain what can be said to cheer him up, and just thinking of Amidala's little identity games is enough to bring back that spark of anger. She is an audacious little queen, refusing to play quietly. Most of the time, that stubbornness is moldable and worthy of fine-tuned manipulation, as in the case of the Chancellor's removal and the queen's return to Naboo. Yet at times her flippant decisions force you to adjust your own plans, and every great while you regret suggesting that she run for royal office. Perhaps once her usefulness on Naboo is done, you will give her over to Maul. A present for good work. You slowly straighten up and continue to obfuscate, "They've had a lot on their minds of late, I suppose. We all do…" You look at him, but it is a challenge to appear interested in this small child when the Republic is waiting for you to save it from its own folly.

You drift on the currents of the Force for a long moment before remembering that the sandy-haired tag-along is still waiting in front of you and still blocking your way. "Ah, you look cold and tired." He shifts on his feet, and you catch a sniff of acrid sweat and dirt and engine grease. Distasteful and a general assault on your olfactory senses. "And filthy. I dare say Queen Amidala has made herself scarce by now. Come along, I should have a place for you to tidy up and rest before you leave. The queen will doubtless require some time to conclude her business."

Without waiting for him to say anything more, you turn and sweep down the hallway, not doubting that he will trip over himself to follow you. At least the boy understands where the power lies. His voice sounds again, soft and tremulous. "Sir, could one of your servants maybe take me? I don't want to be a bother…"

A bother? Most certainly. Plagueis is waiting. Most Sith Lords do not have to deal with errant strays in their parlors. "No bother, child. I don't keep servants in my apartment. I value my…privacy…a great deal."

The two of you travel the entire length of the hall in silence until you stop at a small door on the left. This is normally a storage room for innocuous items, but it contains a small bed and refresher, which should be sufficient to keep the child distracted and out of the rest of your apartment.

You press your hand to the datapad and slide into the room, needing no light to show the way. The darkness is your cherished companion, and the lurking shadows are drawn to you just as much as you are to them. You move deeper into the room to fetch the soap and fresh clothing, then realize that the boy has not followed you. Turning, you see him hesitating on the edge of the shadowy room, his face half-fearful. Impatient and unseen in the shadows, you flick your left hand to trigger the room's light.

"Well?" You have no time for this.

"Sorry, sir!" the boy squeaks out and slides into the room behind you. As he does, his expression lightens, and he gazes longingly at the small bed. In this brighter light, you can clearly see his exhaustion and emotional distress. Something unpleasant has happened to him recently, but you cannot take the time to search him out. And why would you? This urchin holds no significance. You glance up at the small holoclock above the bed and realize that too much time has passed.

As you pass him the clothing and soap, he turns bright red. He must have realized how wretched he looks and smells. You make a mental note to discuss with Amidala the benefits of not picking up pathetic life forms by the sides of the hyperspace lanes. "The refresher is through that door," you point to the back of the room.

"Uh…thanks…" The boy stands frozen in front of you, clutching at the bundled clothes as if afraid of dropping and breaking them. Ridiculous. You nod briefly and begin to stride to the small door, your mind already transferring to the tasks at hand. You are instead surprised that the boy reaches out and touches you on your arm. It is a tentative gesture, and his eyes are cast down as he mumbles, "I…uh, don't remember your name, sir."

At least he is a polite youth, whatever godsforsaken place he came from. You smile faintly. "Senator Palpatine, child. You're in the Senate apartments. You can stay here for now, and I will make certain the Queen sends one of her handmaidens to fetch you when they are ready to leave." Which should not be long, considering how eager the sacrificial queen was to return to Naboo, right back to where she belongs. Satisfied that the child is taken care of and no eyes will witness your departure, you step out into the hallway.

"I won't forget you again, sir." He calls after you quietly. But you do hear him, and it gives you brief pause to consider what he has said. Out of the mouths of babes…

With his sincere words, you are drawn up and granted a short and powerful vision of the future, of a roaring Senate, a soaring and grandiose speech, and a rising empire. The thought emboldens you, and you feel the Dark Side boiling up within, desperate to explode loose of its bonds and take its spoils now. Yet, you can only afford a deep breath, a long look at him, and a few words of deadly confirmation. "Few will, my boy."

The writhing shadows beckon to you, and sliding down the hallway, you move toward a night of unhindered celebration and plotting, barely registering the sound of the small door slamming shut behind you, barely registering the small nameless boy in your memory, because the Republic is calling your name, _Supreme Chancellor _Palpatine.

**Well, there was Palpatine's side of the story. What did you think? The thoughts of a slave who sees everyone but himself as power, and the thoughts of a Sith, who sees everyone but himself as stepping stones to his own ultimate power. As the novel **_**Darth Plagueis **_**covers the start of Phantom Menace, there were some discrepancies of time-passage between the book and movie. I kept to the movie schedule as best I could, which all seemed to take place in a single day, but I tried to keep the elements of the novel as well. Palpatine is off to his fateful preparation to take over as Chancellor as described in **_**Darth Plagueis**_**, and Anakin is on his way to save Naboo. **


End file.
